His photographs of the springs and caves, not only of caves and springs in the High Springs area, but also worldwide, had been published in National Geographic. He was a rock star locally, and I was in awe of the dude and all he did. Yes, he was known nationally and internationally for his photography and filmmaking and underwater discoveries, but he also never lost his loyalty and passion for the first springs he ever visited as a young child. He loved them so much that he moved from Jacksonville to High Springs and raised his family near the Ichetucknee and Santa Fe rivers.

I worked for a decade as a reporter for several local publications. I often wrote about the rivers and springs in the area, and without fail, Wes never turned me down for an interview despite his growing fame. He would even provide me with photos if I wrote about the ecology and conservation of his beloved springs. I last interviewed him in 2010 a few months before he died tragically and suddenly in an underwater photo shoot for National Geographic in South Florida.

During that last interview he described for me the course his life took. “The springs were the first truly magical place I explored as a child,” Skiles said. “We first went to Ginnie Springs [on the Santa Fe River], and I was totally mesmerized and consumed. I never had any doubt—even at that young age—that I was going to do everything in my power to keep coming back to the springs.”

I am not sure what I expected that Sunday morning when they came to our house. I thought it would be just Wes and a guy with a camera who Wes would direct. When we offered Wes coffee he said, “I’m sure the crew would love some.”

That was my first clue that this was no small production.

After the crew of eight dismantled my living room and kitchen, I recognized very little of my home. In the film, I could identify things I owned, but they were placed in different spots for effect.

I went upstairs to put on make-up and dress for my role as homemaker. I thought with my blonde hair, black would make a nice contrast. When I arrived on the “movie set,” AKA, my living room, the head camera guy started yelling in what sounded like a French accent. “She’s too white; she’s too white!” he screamed.

I’ve always been white, but I never had anyone shout about it. Wes saw the look on my face—picture a deer in the headlights of a car—and threw his head back in laughter.

“He means the black shirt and your hair are creating too much contrast for the camera,” he told me. “Can you put on something lighter?”

I changed into a beige cardigan set and came back down even less excited about my “acting” debut.

During the filming, Larry spoke passionately about his reasons for conservation, and I provided the June Cleaver role. It starts with me waiting patiently for my husband’s return from a hard day of work—in my beige cardigan—and truly acting because I am not generally a patient person nor did I await his arrival at home so I could wait on him.

“Would you like a glass of water?” I asked as I stood waiting for him in the kitchen.

I asked him more than thirty times before it was announced that I had it just right. I was really acting at that point because I was ready to throw the damn glass at somebody, probably the camera guy who announced my whiteness to the world. As I poured from the jug, I had to hold my arm and wrist at the weirdest angles, so they could capture the water escaping the pitcher into the glass.

As weird as the whole thing felt to me, the result was well worth the pain of acting like the perfect housewife. The movie’s message resounds with common sense reasons why we all need to be aware that our actions impact the very water we drink, not just today, but for the long-term future.

The movie turned out to be the first of a series of documentaries about water produced by Wes and his partner at Karst Productions, Jill Heinerth.

The finished production follows a group of explorers as they trace water’s journey through caves, springs, rivers, wetland estuaries, and coral reefs. It even takes the explorers through a Sonny’s Barbecue restaurant in Alachua, Florida. Done with a touch of humor it brings together all the elements of water’s course and importance. And it even shows me gracefully pouring a glass of water from a pitcher in my beige top and still white face.

 More than two decades later, the film is still being shown and used as a teaching tool in schools across the country. And I’m still waiting for my Oscar nomination.

Water’s Journey was shown on PBS where it won an award for a documentary series. It is also available on DVD.

Wes may have left this world in 2010, but his legacy endures. In 2011, the Florida State Park system renamed Peacock Springs on the Suwannee River in his honor. West Skiles Peacock Springs State Park is a 733-acre park honors Wes for “his documentary filmmaking, springs advocacy, and contributions to cave exploration.

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